Warriors: Forest of Blood
by Scribbler Kitty
Summary: Well...I started wondering: what if Firestar was killed? What if BloodClan won, instead of being defeated. And I wrote...this. XD I know, it's kinda sad. CHAPTER EIGHT'S UP!
1. Intro Thingies

Okay, I decided to edit the disclaimer since there's a lot more I want to add in. Here it is, then…

**Disclaimer  
****Let me get this straight first.  
I DO NOT OWN WARRIORS. :)  
Warriors, along with the Clans, characters and places, is the creation of Erin Hunter aka Kate Cary/Cherith Baldry. Anyway, this is just a fanfic.**

**This fic is dedicated to:**  
Stormpaw "Stormie", Hawksong "Hawkie", Amberstar "Amber", Thornstar "Thornie"/Song, Sandstar "Sandie", Moonpaw "Mooneth", Goldenstream "Goldie", Despaw "Dezzie", Phoenix and all my other wonderful Warriors friends…  
You know who you are, even if you're not up there.

**Story Summary (a proper one!)  
**In the great battle with BloodClan, Firestar is killed by Scourge. Just one little twist of fate, and the world of Warriors is thrown into chaos. The few survivors of the battle, led by Dustpelt of ThunderClan,are forced to flee, to a place far from their old territories. Perhaps the day will come when they can return to their home…

And, finally…

WARRIORS RAWKS!

- Scribbler Kitty aka Slatey/Tawny/Hawkcry


	2. Prologue: Death

Warriors: Forest of Blood

Prologue 

Firestar crouched, glaring defiantly at Scourge. "Die, rogue!" the ginger tom yowled, mustering all his burning anger and strength. Fighting the BloodClan leader had already cost him one life; he could not afford to lose any more. He had to defeat BloodClan, not only for his own sake, but also for the sake of the whole forest. And to do that, he had to kill their leader. _I have to end this quickly._

He leapt at the smaller tom, but Scourge was fast. The black rogue whipped aside, hissing a taunt. "Hah! Slow forest fool!"

Fury and pride welled up in Firestar's blood. Snarling, he attacked again. Scourge slid forward, ducking under the ginger tom's deadly claws…and sunk his own claws into Firestar's chest. A fountain of blood welled out, spurting and staining both cats' fur and the grass around.

Firestar gazed down in shock at his chest wound. Desperately, he scrabbled at the ground, fighting the wave of blurry darkness that was overcoming him. It washed over him; he knew he was losing a life. Seven left, now. _No!_ the leader of ThunderClan thought in panic. _I have to get up! I have to fight!_

He expected to find himself back in the hollow at Fourtrees, to speak with StarClan, and let his body recover for the second time. But the world before his eyes was dark, dark as night. And there was a searing pain in his chest, searing agony…

Nearby the ginger tom's still body, a huge gray tabby tom battled another rogue. The spiked teeth on the rogue's collar flashed in the sunlight as he dodged Graystripe, the ThunderClan deputy's flailing claws. Graystripe hissed with satisfaction as the other cat gave ground steadily, knowing he would win.

Then something caught his eye. A cat's body. Not just any body. The body of his leader and best friend, Firestar. "Firestar?" he called out, sparing a moment from the fight. He knew his leader was probably losing a life and would recover soon, but what worried him was that Scourge was crouched nearby, eyes gleaming.

The rogue chose that moment to dart in and slash at his cheek, so Graystripe turned and dealt him a heavy blow, scowling. Then a choking cry form behind him stopped the grey tabby in his tracks.

He whipped around, eyes widening in shock and horror. "No!" Firestar had not managed to enter the healing sleep StarClan should have given him. The ginger tom writhed on the ground, coughing up blood, choking. His eyes were beginning to glaze over, his struggles weakening. Graystripe stared, frozen. _No, it can't be…Scourge took Tigerstar's nine lives in a single blow, but Firestar would never let him do that…_

But he could not deny the horrifying scene in front of his eyes, nor look away. As he watched, Firestar's body grew limp. _Six lives left. StarClan, let him survive…_Graystripe prayed.

The ginger tom began convulsing again, limbs flailing. Scourge watched, a cruel smile on his dark face. As Graystripe stood rooted to the spot, the rogue he had been fighting leapt on him, pinning him to the ground. "I won't kill you till you watch your leader die," he snarled. But Graystripe had eyes only for the scene before him.

Five lives left, then four, then three. Firestar grew steadily weaker. By this time, other cats had noticed the commotion. They, too, were frozen in terror. Firestar was their leader. Without him, they would not be able to fight on, even the other Clans, RiverClan, WindClan and ShadowClan. _We've lost_, thought Graystripe hopelessly. Two lives left. One.

Firestar's body grew limp, for the last time. Scourge threw back his head and howled to the skies, a chilling cry of triumph. "Kill them!"

The BloodClan rogues answered with a dreadful roar. Claws and fangs flashed as they slew their enemies. But the Clan cats of the forest had no fight left in them, without their leader. Soon, bodies littered the floor of Fourtrees, staining the ground red with blood. There was no one left living in the clearing except for the rogues.

Amid the horrifying carnage, they stood. Scourge leapt up onto Great Rock, never to be used by the leaders for addressing the Clans during a Gathering again. "Cats of BloodClan!"

His rogues answered him with a roar that grew in strength and power. "Scourge! Scourge! Scourge!"

The black tom smiled, flicking up his tail for silence. "We have won this prize for ourselves: forest territory with good hunting, good living. Those forest fools paid their price with their lives. From now on, we rule the forest!"

"Bone is dead; and I have decided that my new second in command shall be Diego. Diego, I will speak to you after this. You may all spread through the former territory of the four Clans, as they called themselves. Remember I am your leader, though, or you will pay a price in blood." He smiled, not at all a pleasant smile.

"Dismissed."

The BloodClan cats began to stream out of the clearing in small groups. Scourge looked over his new domain, and smiled. He would rule this new territory with iron claws, as he had his old one.


	3. One: Flight

Chapter One

They were dead.

The once-great Clans of the forest, slaughtered by rogues.

The leaders, dead. Firestar, dead. Leopardstar, dead. Tallstar, dead. Blackfoot, dead.

The deputies, too. Graystripe, Mistyfoot, Deadfoot.

And even the medicine cats. Cinderpelt, Barkface, Mudfur, Runningnose and his apprentice Littlecloud.

Dozens of noble warriors: Sandstorm, Whitestorm, Blackclaw, Onewhisker, Morningflower, Dawncloud, and many more.

The names of the dead ran on and on. Fernpaw. Willowpelt, leaving three kits behind. Shadepelt. Tornear. Mudclaw. Tallpoppy. Runningbrook. Rowanpaw. And yes, the loners Barley and Ravenpaw, dead fighting for their friends and home.

Yet, miraculously, a few survived, fleeing the fight.

Dustpelt pounded desperately through the forest, ignoring the branches that whipped his face, the blood that stained his brown fur, the aching wound that made his leg throb. He ran as fast as his paws could carry him. _I have to warn the camp. The rogues are coming. I must warn the camp._ He knew there was nothing else he could do, much as he hated fleeing an enemy.

His breath was coming in short gasps. The distance between Fourtrees and the ThunderClan camp had never seemed so vast, nor so difficult to traverse. The brown tabby stumbled as he crossed a stream, landing heavily on his side. Blinded for a moment by water swirling about his head, he forced himself to scramble upright and continue on.

The warrior burst into camp, panting raggedly. A dappled tortoiseshell sprang to her paws, her eyes worried. "Dustpelt, what-"

Dustpelt was gasping so hard he couldn't speak. When he regained his breath, the dusky brown tom blurted out, "The rogues – they've defeated us – killed Firestar – they're coming here next, we've got to run, Specklepelt…"

Specklepelt laid her tail on his shoulder, signalling for calm. She was trembling, though, and he could smell her fear scent which mirrored his own. The elder murmured, her eyes distant, "Firestar dead?" Her voice echoed with sorrow and disbelief.

Dustpelt felt the same pangs of loss, but he knew there was no time for mourning. "Specklepelt – listen! The rogues are coming. They will kill us. We've got to get the other elders and Willowpelt's kits out of here! Firestar left you in charge; he would want – would have wanted - you to fulfil your duty even if he died." His words were loaded with urgency.

Specklepelt gave herself a shake. "You're right," she meowed sadly. In a stronger voice, the tortoiseshell called out, "One-eye! Smallear! Dappletail! Bring the kits out. We're leaving!"

Dustpelt waited impatiently at the entrance of the camp, almost bouncing up and down on his toes with worry and anxiety. _StarClan, give us enough time to get away_, he prayed.

Then the warrior's sharp ears caught the sound of approaching pawsteps and snarls. Dustpelt tensed, his heartbeat quickening. "Hurry!" he growled, his voice low and urgent. "They're coming!"

More cats hurried out into the clearing. The elders, and three kits. All that was left of ThunderClan, Dustpelt realised. "Come on!" he hissed, not daring to raise his voice lest the rogues heard. They _were_ coming closer, and quickly.

"Wait," old One-eye complained in a reedy voice. The oldest cat in the Clan, she wore a frown on her face. "Why the rush? Where is Firestar?"

"Yes, yes, Dustpelt! Where _is_ Firestar? Did we win the battle?" the liveliest of the three kits poor Willowpelt had left behind – Sorrelkit – mewed eagerly.

Dustpelt felt as though his heart was going to burst out of his chest. His voice made rough with fear, he growled, "I'll explain later. We've got to – "

He was cut off by a terrifying snarl from behind. The warrior whirled, unsheathing claws. Above him loomed a rogue he knew all too well – Jaggedtooth, former warrior of ShadowClan, who had deserted his Clan in favour of Scourge. Without thinking, Dustpelt attacked. Jaggedtooth was a formidable enemy, but nothing mattered except to get the elders and kits to safety. "Run!" the dark brown tom yelled out, slashing at Jaggedtooth's cheek. "Get away!"

Jaggedtooth retaliated, sending Dustpelt tumbling in the dirt. His ears rang from the massive blow the rogue had given him, and he tasted blood, trickling into his mouth from a wound. Yet he staggered to his feet – and gaped in horror as he saw Sorrelkit and her siblings leaping at Jaggedtooth. He knew the kits had been taught some defensive moves, but Jaggedtooth was huge! They would surely be killed! Like him, the elders were frozen, unable to do anything.

The rogue batted Sorrelkit's brother Rainkit away, and sent Sootkit sprawling. Yet Sorrelkit had managed to fasten herself to his neck, and there she hung on, riding his valiantly as he bucked and growled, trying to shake her off. Dustpelt's throat suddenly froze in terror, unable to call out, as another rogue appeared in the camp entrance – and swept Sorrelkit off Jaggedtooth's back with one blow.

The sound of the kit's terrified mewl wakened Dustpelt from his trance. Darting forward, he grabbed the scruff of Sorrelkit's neck, calling out to Speckletail and the others, "Get the kits! Let's get out of here!"

Speckletail snatched up Rainkit, swift despite her age, and another of the elders, Dappletail, carried Sootkit. With Dustpelt leading the way, the ThunderClan cats shot past the startled rogues and into the forest. Even old One-eye and Smallear forced their hobbling paws to carry them quickly.

The five cats and three kits – all that was left of ThunderClan – fled through the forest desperately. Behind them, they could hear the rogues crashing through the undergrowth, giving chase. Dustpelt bounded on in front, constantly looking back to encourage the others and hurry them on. _They'll catch us…_

He skidded to a stop, realising where they were. Before his paws, the Thunderpath stretched across the ground like a great grey snake. Dustpelt knew they should cross it – but how? Monsters roared continuously over its gritty black surface, their glaring, huge eyes seeming to challenge him. He might be able to dart quickly across to the other side, but the elders and kits would never make it.

Then he remembered. A tunnel slid under the Thunderpath: a safe passage to the other side. He cast around, searching for it. The rogues were coming closer again. Speckletail and the others huddled in a group nearby, their eyes wide and frightened. They were his responsibility: even bossy Speckletail seemed too stunned to lead for once. _I won't let them die_, he vowed silently. _I won't let you down, Firestar. ThunderClan _will _survive._

At last he found it: a dark, dank opening lined with stone, smelling strongly of garbage and rats. Shivering, the warrior peered into its damp blackness. But he knew it was their only way to safety.

Flicking his tail to beckon the others, Dustpelt hissed, "Over here! We'll go underneath the Thunderpath."

The other cats followed obediently, but as they were entering the tunnel, with Dustpelt guarding the rear, a band of ragged cats appeared form the bushes. The rogues had come, and many of them. The largest, a tall black she-cat, lunged at Dustpelt immediately. He barely avoided a blow that would have ripped his cheek open, and found himself dodging and ducking a multitude of slashes and attacks. Dimly, he noticed the other rogues attacking the elders and kits – they had huddled together and were defending themselves as best as they could, with the kits in the centre – but for him, nothing existed except the fight between him and the black rogue. If he spared so much as a second's attention, he would die.

The warrior suddenly stumbled on a rock. He would have righted himself in an instant, but that instant off balance was just enough for the she-cat to leap at him and knock him off his feet. In battle, everything depended on staying on your feet. Pinned down, Dustpelt stared helplessly up into the murderous eyes of the rogue, eyes that held a promise of StarClan.

Frozen, he waited for the death blow.


	4. Two: Battles

Yay and thanks to all the people who reviewed! XD 

Chapter Two

Then the unexpected happened.

The rogue she-cat let out a furious yell as she was knocked off Dustpelt. He took the opportunity to spring upright and slash furiously at her till she turned tail and fled, yowling. She was obviously the leader of the band, and, with her flight, the rest of the rogues followed.

Panting with relief as much as exhaustion, Dustpelt turned, and was surprised to see who his rescuers were: the ShadowClan cats Boulder and Russetfur.

"Thank…thank you," he meowed hesitantly. Despite everything, he would never be able to bring himself to trust a ShadowClan cat.

Russetfur, a dark ginger she-cat, dipped her head in acknowledgement. "We were fleeing the rogues and saw you fighting. You should see to your comrades," she replied, looking over his shoulder and behind him.

Dustpelt whipped around, his breath catching in his throat at the scene that met his eyes. "No…"

In a trice the dark brown tom was crouching beside the fallen bodies of Speckletail, Dappletail, One-eye and Smallear. His head spun with grief. So many lives had been lost today, and he didn't know whether his life was worth living any more. His Clan was dead. His leader was dead. His friends and family, all dead. Dustpelt closed his eyes tightly, whiskers trembling.

Then he felt a small nudge at his flank. The warrior looked down…and saw the three small kits gazing up at him. "Dustpelt?" Sorrelkit asked. Her eyes were shocked and frightened. So young, yet they had seen so much death and destruction.

A new resolve woke in him. He had to protect them, because there was no one else left to do it. These kits were the future of ThunderClan. _ThunderClan will survive._

Giving Sorrelkit and her brothers each a gentle lick on the head, he straightened. "Come. We have to leave the territory of the Clans, or we will not survive. The rogues are taking over, but we will return someday."

The kits' eyes were filled with pain and questions, pining for their mother, yet they trusted him implicitly. One by one, they nodded.

Dustpelt had forgotten about the ShadowClan cats. As he turned, he halted, seeing them as if for the first time. Russetfur and Boulder watched him warily.

_More cats would mean safety in number_, the ThunderClan warrior thought_. We could travel together…that is, if they are willing_. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Russetfur, Boulder…would you like to travel with us?"

Russetfur hesitated for an instant, narrowing her eyes; then she nodded firmly. "We…would be grateful." Her look said she thought _they_ should be grateful, though. Boulder seconded her, meowing his agreement. The silvery grey tom had a haunted look in his eyes. A former member of BloodClan, he had left to join ShadowClan. To find his new home shattered so suddenly must have been a shock for him, alongside having to battle his old comrades and friends.

Two new allies. One distrustful, one stunned. It would have to do. With a shrug, he dragged Speckletail and the other elders' bodies under a bush and kicked leaf litter over them – there was no time for a proper burial – and headed into the tunnel, with the kits and ShadowClan cats following. They had to get away.

At sunset, Dustpelt lay just inside the door of a barn, at the edge of WindClan territory. This could only be a temporary resting place; the rogues would find it sooner or later. Yet the kits were too tired to travel any longer, and the barn was filled with fat mice. He remembered it used to be the territory of a loner called Billy or something like that. He had seen Billy – no, Barley, he remembered – fighting BloodClan too. And had seen him go down, throat cut by a rogue. Yes, this barn could only be a temporary resting place.

The warrior looked down at Sorrelkit, Rainkit and Sootkit. The three sleeping kits huddled together at his side, the last rays of the setting sun touching their fur to golden. Not for the first time, he worried about how he was going to feed them. As kits, they would only take a she-cat's milk, and he doubted Russetfur would consent to feeding them. With a sigh, he laid his head on his paws. He would deal with the problem when they started getting crying for milk. There was nothing he could do. And there was a nagging emptiness at the back of his mind; a feeling that something was missing.

Turning his head, he saw that Russetfur and Boulder were crouched atop a bale of hay. Russetfur was grooming, while Boulder stared out into the distance, his eyes dreaming. All the cats' bellies were full – except for the kits – yet Dustpelt could not stop worrying. Where could they go? Where?

The sound of soft voices outside the barn broke into his thoughts. Without thinking, he sprang to his paws, growling and flexing his claws. Wordlessly, Russetfur and Boulder joined him.

The warriors tensed when four cats appeared out of the dusk. Then, familiar scents blew to Dustpelt on the breeze, and he relaxed. "It's all right," the tom meowed. "They're WindClan and RiverClan."

Dustpelt recognized the cats. Webfoot, warrior of WindClan, and Ashfoot, queen of WindClan. Mosspelt, queen of RiverClan, and Stormpaw and Featherpaw, apprentices of RiverClan and the late Graystripe's kits. Despite himself, the ThunderClan cat could not help heaving a sigh of relief. So some others had managed to escape after all.

The cats stopped short when they say Dustpelt and the others. Webfoot's hackles rose, and he stepped forward. Dustpelt could not help noticing that the warrior was not much more than an apprentice himself. "Peace, Webfoot," he called out. "I am Dustpelt of ThunderClan, with the late Willowpelt's kits, and Russetfur and Boulder of ShadowClan are with me."

Russetfur shot him a glare; she had clearly intended to take the lead. But she satisfied herself with meowing coldly, "I suppose your lot can shelter here if you wish. We are all that is left, after all. It doesn't really matter."

Dustpelt opened his mouth to argue with her, but closed it when he noticed that Featherpaw and Stormpaw were swaying on their feet with exhaustion. "Come on in," he invited, trying to sound as friendly as he could. "We'll have to move on tomorrow, though."

The others padded wearily into the barn. "Thank you," muttered Webfoot, not looking at Dustpelt. "We…were fleeing the rogues, and we met up and decided to travel together." He raised his head, and for the first time the fear and relief was clear in the young tom's eyes. "We were afraid we were the only ones left."

Dustpelt smiled at him. If they were to survive, there had to be good relations between the Clans. "Don't worry," he meowed reassuringly. "We will survive, and one day we will come back and drive BloodClan out."

Webfoot nodded and padded away.

Resting his head on his paws, Dustpelt wondered what to do. Somehow, he had become the leader of this ragged band of survivors. Dreams of glory and retaking the forest were all very well, but first they had to concentrate on escaping BloodClan and finding a new place to live, until they were strong, and many enough to fight BloodClan again. He was unwilling to shoulder the responsibilities of leadership, but even more unwilling to let Russetfur do it. Yes, he knew she wanted to be leader. But he wasn't going to let her.

Tiredly, the dusky brown tom closed his eyes. A sigh escaped him. He would talk with the other cats tomorrow.

Suddenly, he realised what was missing. Fernpaw. _No_, the tom thought desperately, his eyes snapping open. In the day's excitement, the battle, and fleeing from BloodClan, he had completely forgotten about her. His beautiful Fernpaw, with her silky dappled grey fur and gentle green eyes.

And now she was dead. He had seen her body, lying on the ground with her throat slashed open, but had not thought of it, busy defending himself as she was. He choked back a sob in his throat. They should never have been together, yet he had loved her. _Fernpaw…oh, Fernpaw…_

Dustpelt closed his eyes tightly, shutting out the image of her body. Yet it still lingered in his mind.

He fell asleep finally, though not after much anguished tossing and moaning.

_Fernpaw…_


	5. Three: Dreams

**Okay here it is. The long-awaited third chapter! Sorry it took so long, I was busy with schoolwork, sigh…**

**But anyway…enjoy!**

**(Yeah, I know, it sounds way too much like a Fireheart-Spottedleaf dream. Never mind.)**

Chapter Three 

Dustpelt opened his eyes.

He was in the forest. He recognised this place. The sandy hollow where mentors and apprentices trained. Where he had once taken Fernpaw and her brother Ashpaw to train. Firmly, he pushed that thought out of his mind and stood up, looking around nervously.

_Why am I here_? the warrior wondered_. BloodClan should have ravaged this place by now…_

Yet the clearing was silent, peaceful. A cool night breeze ruffled Dustpelt's whiskers, and a cricket chirped amid the dappled moonlight that fell softly on the sandy floor.

Dustpelt breathed in the fresh night air. For the first time since fleeing BloodClan, he felt at peace.

The wind carried the sound of pawsteps to his keen ears. Suddenly alert and wary, Dustpelt whirled, instinctively dropping into a crouch and unsheathing his claws, fur bristling, ready to fight.

Then an all-too familiar scent wafted to him on the breeze. A pair of warm green eyes gleamed from the darkness, and Fernpaw – yes, Fernpaw! – stepped out into the open, glowing, it seemed, with the light of stars and fire and ice, even more beautiful than she had been in real life.

With a cry, Dustpelt bounded forward to thrust his nose into her fur, breathing in her sweet scent. "Fernpaw…" His voice was so choked he could barely speak.

Yet Fernpaw drew away from him. Her eyes were filled with sorrow as she gazed up at the warrior. "I can't, Dusty," she whispered, using her old nickname for him. "I'm…dead."

Dustpelt stared at her in shock. "But you're here…I felt you…smelled you…"

Fernpaw meowed, her voice filled with pain, "This is a dream. A dream from StarClan, but still only a dream. I came to tell you something."

Dustpelt's head dropped. Her felt cheated, to have Fernpaw returned to him, yet snatched away again so quickly. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

Fernpaw cleared her throat. StarClan or not, for a moment she looked like a newly raised apprentice again, young and shy and unsure of herself. "You…you have to travel to Highstones with the others, before Scourge and his rogues find it. Only at the Moonstone will StarClan have the powers to do what must be done. Firestar wishes to speak to you."

Dustpelt stared at her. "_What_ must be done?"

Fernpaw gazed steadily back. "I cannot tell you, yet. You will know soon enough." She sighed, a soft sound filled with unbearable sadness, and looked away. "I have to go now. StarClan calls."

"No, Fernpaw," Dustpelt whispered. "Please don't go," he pleaded, feeling as if his heart was breaking. "Fernpaw!"

She was fading, her dappled fur mingling with the patches of moonlight and shadow. The silhouette of the StarClan cat became blurry, invisible.

She was gone.

A whisper on the breeze, so soft Dustpelt wondered if he had heard. "I'm sorry, Dusty…"

Dustpelt woke. Sunlight was streaming in through the barn entrance, turning the scattered hay golden. For a moment he couldn't remember where he was, his mind still filled with thoughts of Fernpaw. Then Sorrelkit's voice sounded by his ear. "Dustpelt! Wake up!"

Stretching, the tom got to his paws. At once, all his troubles crashed down on him. With a groan, he pushed them aside, and a fragment of memory from his dream surfaced.

…_you have to travel to Highstones, before Scourge and his rogues find it. Only at the Moonstone will StarClan have the powers to do what must be done…_

He sat bolt upright. Fernpaw had told him to travel to Highstones with the others. They should set off, immediately. Or BloodClan might get there first. It was lucky this place was not too far from Highstones.

The other cats – Russetfur, Boulder, Mosspelt, Stormpaw, Featherpaw, Webfoot, Ashfoot – were already awake. Russetfur sneered sarcastically, "So, the great ThunderClan warrior is finally up." Dustpelt ignored her, with some effort.

Stormpaw, the young RiverClan apprentice, spoke up. "What do we do now, Dustpelt?"

Somehow, Dustpelt didn't feel it was strange that all – well, most – of the other cats treated him as leader now. "We have to travel to Highstones," he meowed. "I…I had a dream last night, from StarClan. They told me to travel to the Moonstone."

"Are the rest of us coming?" Mosspelt, the RiverClan queen, queried.

Dustpelt nodded. "Yes. You can't stay here. It's not safe."

Russetfur thrust herself forward. "What kind of a mousebrained plan is this?" she snarled. "Why should we all listen to you just because you claim to have had a dream from StarClan? StarClan! Tales for kits! If they really existed, they would've helped us defeat BloodClan."

Dustpelt was stunned for a moment by her outburst. Her words sounded much too similar to those Scourge had spat before the battle. Then white-hot fury reared its head, and he spat back, "If you don't believe in StarClan, then you aren't much better than those mangy flea-ridden BloodClan cats! If you're not happy, you can leave! StarClan exists, and I _did_ have a dream from them!"

Swinging around, the warrior glared at the other cats, who had fallen silent. "Anyone want to go with her?" he hissed. When no one spoke, he turned slowly to face Russetfur again. "Go on. Get out. Maybe BloodClan will allow you to join their ranks." Flicking his tail towards the door of the barn, he wondered why his voice sounded so distant and cold, as if he were watching everything unfold from someone else's body.

Russetfur glared back, her eyes deep pools of pure hatred. Her eyes sweeping across the other cats and finding no support, not even from her Clanmate Boulder, she slowly backed away. "Fine. I'm leaving." The dark ginger she-cat turned and stalked out, disappearing into the bushes.

Dustpelt stared after her, breathing heavily.

The barn was utterly silent for a moment, except for the rustles of foraging mice, unaware of what had just happened. Then Sorrelkit said in a very small voice, "You sounded really scary back there, Dustpelt."

Gently, Dustpelt set Sorrelkit down beside a large boulder. He looked towards the dark entrance of Mothermouth. He would have to enter there to commune with StarClan.

The tom shivered. He had never heard of a warrior sharing dreams with StarClan before.

Turning to face the other cats who had followed him, he cleared his throat. What should he say? No one knew what was going to happen in there.

"I…have to enter Mothermouth now. You cats…stay outside and guard the entrance. And the kits," he added, looking down at Sorrelkit and her siblings."

With a nod, he turned and padded towards the cave. Halting at the entrance, he looked into the yawning blackness. The Moonstone was down there. Down there, where he had to go.

Alone, the dusky brown tom entered, and was swallowed up by the darkness.


	6. Four: Prophecy

Chapter Four 

It was pitch dark in the cave. Dustpelt began to feel as if the blackness was closing in on him. _Where am I?_ He thought in panic. _Where is the Moonstone?_

Then – a glimmer of light, from up ahead. The tabby's footsteps quickened. He found himself running, bounding towards the fabled stone where leaders and medicine cats came to commune with StarClan.

_And yet, I'm not either of those_, Dustpelt thought.

Nearing the Moonstone, he slowed down, staring in awe. The great stone glittered with a thousand colours, moonlight flashing silver, gold, ruby, emerald, sapphire. Of their own accord, Dustpelt's paws slowly came to a halt. He gazed at the stone, its many colours reflected in his green eyes, filled with apprehension and wonder.

Slowly, the tom padded up to the Moonstone, wondering what he should do now. He didn't know what leaders and medicine cats did when they entered this cave, but somehow, he knew he was supposed to lie down beside the stone. After all, hadn't he heard that they were supposed to share dreams with StarClan? And to do that, surely he had to lie down and sleep.

Following his instincts, he lay down, tucking his paws under his chest, and touched the Moonstone with his nose. It was icy cold, sending a shock through his body, but he ignored the discomfort and closed his eyes.

Dustpelt had worried about being able to go to sleep, but once he closed his eyes, he drifted off.

A ginger tom sat staring into a small pool, ripples shimmering across its surface from a small, soothing waterfall. He watched a tiny image of Dustpelt standing outside Mothermouth flicker on the water's surface.

Firestar didn't even look up when a black-and-white cat padded up beside him. "Yes, Tallstar?"

The other tom sighed, looking down at the pool too. "What should we do, Firestar? The Clans are dead, except for your warrior and these few survivors."

"He's not my warrior anymore," Firestar muttered distractedly. "I'm a part of StarClan, now." His green eyes were sad. "How can we help them to survive?"

Another voice sounded from behind. Leopardstar, former leader of RiverClan. "There's only one thing for it. They'll have to leave the forest. But they will come back. I can feel it. They will return one day, and reclaim the territory that ahs belonged to the four Clans for generations."

Firestar nodded, brightening a little as he looked at the golden she-cat. "Yes. Even though I wish they could stay. But they need a leader."

A white tom with huge black paws prowled out from behind a StarClan bush and padded up to join the three leaders. "Dustpelt is already leader in all but name. We might as well just make it official." With a curl of the lip, Blackfoot added, "Even if he _is_ a ThunderClan cat."

"This is StarClan, Blackfoot," Tallstar said sharply. "We are all one Clan, now."

The fire in Blackfoot's eyes turned to cold ice, but he meowed calmly, "So. Dustpelt will be leader, and they will leave the forest."

"We need to give them a prophecy," murmured Leopardstar, looking at the pool. "They have faith in us, and our prophecies." The water showed Dustpelt padding through the darkness of the tunnel that led to the Moonstone, now.

Firestar's emerald eyes were misty with thought. "They'll never recover on their own. They'll have to seek help from other cats."

Tallstar nodded. "Yes. We can include that in the prophecy." He looked around. "I'll begin."

The black-and-white cat dipped a paw in the water. "_Blood runs red over the forest and the Clans…_"

Leopardstar raised her head, eyes glinting. "_The ragged ones left shall flee or die..._"

"_To the mountains, where the rushing water flows…_" Blackfoot growled.

Firestar thought for a moment, then meowed, "_To mingle blood and not to spill it._"

The four cats stared at each other, wondering how to end the prophecy.

Unexpectedly, a soft voice from behind them meowed, "_Till the dawn comes when they, with the rushing water, will purge the blood from their home._"

Turning, Firestar dipped his head to the newcomer, a blue-grey she-cat with wisdom shining in her eyes like starlight. "Bluestar," he meowed respectfully.

The leader of ThunderClan before Firestar sat down, curling her tail around her paws. Her eyes gleamed as she looked at the four cats. "You all have done a good job with the prophecy and survivors. Now all that is left is Dustpelt."

"We have to tell him the prophecy and make him leader," meowed Tallstar.

"No," interrupted Firestar, his eyes thoughtful. "We should not make him leader, should not give him a leader's name. For then there would not be four Clans in the forest, but one, not counting StarClan. Nine lives, yes, but not really make him a leader."

The others looked at him silently, considering his words. Bluestar was the first to nod in agreement, then Tallstar, then Leopardstar, then Blackfoot.

"He comes," meowed Tallstar, looking at the pool again. Indeed, now Dustpelt was standing beside the Moonstone, gazing at it. "We cannot let him arrive at Fourtrees now. Scourge –" he spat the name with distaste, "- has tainted it. He shall have to come here."

Slowly, the silhouettes of the five cats faded away.

Dustpelt kept his eyes tightly shut. He wasn't sure what he would see if he opened them. _Now what?_ the tom wondered.

"Dustpelt," meowed a familiar voice by his ear. Fernpaw! Dustpelt's eyes shot open. He whirled to face the former apprentice. "Oh, Fernpaw…"

She stood looking at him, her dappled grey fur tinted silver with moonlight. Behind her were a pool and a waterfall, splashing softly, the water deep black with stars reflected in it.

"Where…where are we?" the warrior meowed unsteadily. There was a sacred, ethereal aura around this place, and he could hardly keep from crouching in awe.

"A meeting place of StarClan," Fernpaw replied. "We could not meet at Fourtrees, for Scourge has made that place his home, and it is reflected in StarClan. The stink of rogues fills it."

She turned her head, looking at something behind her. Dustpelt saw a form begin to shimmer in the air and resolve into a ginger cat.

Firestar's emerald eyes shone like stars as he approached. This time, Dustpelt really did crouch in awe as his former leader approached. The ginger cat's fur seemed to flicker with colours, just like the Moonstone. "Welcome, Dustpelt," Firestar meowed.

Dipping her head to him, Fernpaw stepped aside to let him speak.

Dustpelt realised there were more cats behind the former leader, shadowy shapes which he could just make out. They stepped forward, too, seeming to glide, and the warrior saw that they were the other leaders who had been killed – Tallstar, Leopardstar, and Blackfoot, who would have been leader if were alive.

And, last of all, came Bluestar.

Dustpelt gaped at them. They seemed larger, stronger than in real life, in all their glory and fierceness. Their eyes were deep pools of wisdom, their fur glittering with moonlight and starlight. But Firestar caught his attention again. "Dustpelt!"

The warrior looked up, still crouching. "Firestar?"

Firestar gazed down at him, and Dustpelt saw in his eyes the old compassion and wisdom of the former young leader. "We have something important to tell you. A prophecy."

Dustpelt nodded, his green eyes fearful and anxious. _A prophecy? It must be something bad._

The other tom seemed to read his thoughts. "It is your only hope of survival. Are you ready to hear it?'

The brown tabby nodded again, warily.

Firestar cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice seemed to fill Dustpelt's mind, reaching into the deepest corners of his soul.

"_Blood runs red over the forest and the Clans."_

"_The ragged ones must flee or die,"_

"_To the mountains, where the rushing water flows,"_

"_To mingle blood and not to spill it."_

"_Till the dawn comes when they, with the rushing water, can purge the blood from their home._

Dustpelt stared up at him, confused. "Rushing water? Mingle blood?"

Firestar shook his head, half amused. "I cannot tell you what it means, but you must remember it. You are no medicine cat, but you can decipher it if you try hard. And there is one more thing to do."

"The cats need a leader. We have decided that you will be theirs, if you are willing."

Dustpelt hesitated, thinking. I'm already more than half their leader. _But can I bear such responsibility? I don't think so…and how can I be leader of four Clans?_

Once again, Firestar seemed to know his thoughts. "You will not be a real leader. You will receive nine lives, but not a leader name. We cannot merge four Clans into one. It would be wrong." He met Dustpelt's eyes, and the warrior could not help flinching away from the directness of his gaze. "Will you do it, Dustpelt?"

Dustpelt searched desperately for a reason. "I…I can't! I'm too young! Surely there are better cats?"

Firestar's whiskers twitched in amusement. "I was younger than you when I became leader," he pointed out.

Dustpelt sighed. He knew he had no choice, and indeed, he agreed that he was probably the best choice for leader. But he wasn't sure if he could be a good leader. "All right. I'll be their leader."

The ginger tom nodded approvingly. "Thank you, Dustpelt. You won't regret it." He raised his head, calling out clearly, "It is time for the ceremony."

At once, the stars in the sky seemed to swirl and shimmer. They spiralled gracefully down towards the ground, no longer stars but silvery leaping cat-forms, all the Clan-cats who had ever existed.

If it were possible for Dustpelt's jaw to hang open any wider, it would have done so.


	7. Five: Life

**Hee…I just realised, reading other people's fics, that I write really long chapters. Especially this one. XD**

P.S. How come everything I write sounds like something copied from Warriors? This one sounds like Firestar's leader ceremony.  It's a bit boring to read, so I guess you can skip it if you want.

P.P.S. I dunno if Goldenflower's really Dustpelt's mother. I'm guessing. ;D

Chapter Five 

Firestar gazed at Dustpelt, his eyes so intense they caught and held the warrior's. "Welcome, Dustpelt. Are you ready to receive your nine lives?"

Dustpelt nodded silently, his throat too choked to speak.

Firestar stepped backwards, joining the throng of cats that surrounded Dustpelt. The warrior's head was spinning as he looked around at the multitude of StarClan cats. There were so many unfamiliar faces…and familiar ones - cats who had been killed in the fatal battle with BloodClan. All of them were still, as if waiting. Dustpelt dared not make a sound and break the heavy silence.

Then he saw that a cat was shouldering his way towards him. Raising his head, Dustpelt went still with shock. His green eyes widened as he recognised his first mentor, Redtail.

Redtail did not seem to have changed a bit since the days when he was alive. Except…he seemed taller, stronger, in the prime of his life. All the cats did, realised Dustpelt. Yet those amber eyes were still intelligent and wise, and the former deputy of ThunderClan still moved with his lithe, quick steps.

Dustpelt looked up into Redtail's eyes, feeling like an apprentice again, such was the wisdom and understanding in them. "Redtail," he whispered in awe.

Redtail smiled down at his former apprentice. "With this life I give you courage. Use it well to stand up for what you know is right, and to fight no matter what the danger." His voice was strong and deep, just as Dustpelt faintly remembered from all those moons ago. They seemed a lifetime away, now, his moons as an apprentice. But he still felt the same awe and respect for his former mentor.

Redtail touched noses with Dustpelt, and the warrior flinched as the life rushed into him. A jolt of pure strength and courage surged through his body, from nosetip to tail, and he felt his fur bristle. Redtail was pouring all of his own courage and loyalty into Dustpelt's life.

When it was over, Dustpelt straightened, trembling. _I've never experienced anything like that before. Are all my lives going to be so…_He couldn't find any words to describe the experience. Still, he held his head high and squared his shoulders, determined.

Another cat was already padding towards the warrior. Dustpelt blinked when he recognized Firestar's old friend and former deputy of ThunderClan Graystripe. The tabby's amber eyes shone with determination and strength as he gazed at Dustpelt. They had been apprentices together and were roughly the same age, but Dustpelt felt young and ignorant as he looked up at the other cat.

Bending his head, Graystripe touched his nose gently to Dustpelt's own. "With this life I give you strength to carry on no matter what," he proclaimed. "Use it well to do what is best no matter what others say." Dustpelt was sure the StarClan cat was referring to the way he himself had given up his Clan and friends for love of a RiverClan cat.

The life that Graystripe gave was filled with determination, the kind that made you push aside fear and doubts to do what you thought and knew was right. As it flowed through him, Dustpelt felt a sure knowledge that no matter what, he would keep going, keep battling on. He felt an urge to leap up and yowl a challenge to the whole world.

As the tide of strength ebbed away, Graystripe brought his muzzle close to Dustpelt's ear and said softly, "Look after my kits for me." The next moment, the grey tabby was padding away, making way for the next cat. _I _will_ look after Stormpaw and Featherpaw, Graystripe_, Dustpelt promised silently.

Another deputy of ThunderClan – this time, it was Whitestorm. Dustpelt remembered seeing him killed by Bone, second-in-command of BloodClan. He remembered, too, how before the battle, the experienced old warrior had seemed to know that he was expected in StarClan. Well, it seemed he had been right after all.

Whitestorm's amber eyes – eyes the colour of sun-baked sand – were kindly as he looked at the ThunderClan cat. "With this life I give you fairness," he meowed. "Use it well judge right and wrong, and to keep the peace." He touched noses with Dustpelt.

Every hair on Dustpelt's pelt stood on end as the life thrilled through him. He experienced Whitestorm's concern and loyalty for his Clan and leaders Bluestar and Firestar, felt his sense of responsibility mixed with pride when he was made deputy, the way he had always been just to other cats. And his dying thoughts, that he should have fought harder to help his Clan.

Panting, Dustpelt raised his head to see Whitestorm already turning away.

Then, the tabby blinked, recognizing the black cat that padded towards him, white-tipped tail held high. Ravenpaw! The tom had left ThunderClan as an apprentice, unable to bear the secret that he knew – the secret about Redtail's death. They had been apprentices together, with Graystripe, Sandstorm, and later, Firestar.

Like the previous two cats, Ravenpaw touched noses with Dustpelt. "With this life I give you great loyalty. Use it well to serve the clans and keep the warrior spirit flowing in your veins and theirs."

The gift of life set Dustpelt's heart racing, a rush of fierce desire to serve till death. The way Ravenpaw himself had still served and battled alongside the other cats against BloodClan, even though he had left his Clan long ago to become a loner. No matter what, Dustpelt would be loyal. He _would_.

As Ravenpaw padded away, Dustpelt drew a shaky breath. He felt an urge to sit down and rest, but somehow he knew he had to keep standing to receive his lives. Then his head shot up when the next cat neared him.

Sandstorm's intelligent green eyes shone at the warrior, her cream tabby pelt rippling like that of a lioness. She leaned forward to touch noses with Dustpelt, meowing, "With this life I give you ferocity. Use it well to battle enemies, no matter how great or deadly, without surrendering. Use it to battle like a warrior of LionClan or TigerClan or CheetahClan."

Sandstorm's gift was like a bolt of lightning from the sky, charged with energy. For a moment, Dustpelt felt himself in the thick of a battle, the clash of claws and fangs, furious yowls echoing, battlefire in eyes…

He blinked and the vision cleared. The memory and life remained, though. Dustpelt felt more like a warrior than ever before, his heart pounding with strength and fierceness, his eyes narrowed and claws half-unsheathed.

Sandstorm gave him a mischievous smile and turned away.

Now…a pale ginger cat padded towards him. When she lifted her head, green eyes shining, Dustpelt recognized her. His mother, Goldenflower. For a moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to rush forward and nuzzle her like a kit again. He held himself still, head high, with an effort.

Goldenflower's fur seemed to glow with warmth and light, though it was night. She bent to touch noses, and Dustpelt leaned forward to acquiescence. Her voice soft, the StarClan cat meowed, "With this life I give you responsibility. Use it well to carry out the duties you are given with carefulness and thoughtfulness, whatever they may be." Her emerald eyes still glowed with the fire and spirit she had shown in life, protecting her last litter of kits – the kits of the traitor Tigerstar.

The life swept onto him like a wave of fire. Dustpelt braced himself against it, for a moment feeling lost and weighed down by a heavy burden. Shaking his head, he saw the fire before his eyes clear, and the tom was suddenly filled with a clear sense of revelation, felt that he knew what to do. The knowledge gave him strength and courage. Whatever responsibility he was given, he would bear it with pride and honour.

He had left the nursery long ago – how long? Moons ago… - yet Goldenflower looked like a first-time queen as she gazed at him, pride instead of temper shining in her green eyes now. "Be well, my son," she whispered, and was gone.

The cat that approached was smaller this time. Dustpelt almost started forward when he realised the tom was his former apprentice and Fernpaw's brother…Ashpaw.

Ashpaw's eyes were dark blue instead of pale green like his sister's, intense and intelligent. He had always been a quick learner and steady worker. He seemed much older than his nine moons, now, as he gazed up at his mentor, almost tiptoeing to touch noses. Despite the apprentice's smaller size, Dustpelt never felt that he was superior to the speckled grey tom.

"With this life I give you wisdom and a thirst for knowledge," Ashpaw meowed, his blue eyes glinting. "Use it well to sharpen your wits and guide your cats down the smoothest paths of life."

Dustpelt gasped as the life rushed into him. It was filled with a pulsing yet calm power, a drive to find out whys and hows and whats, a drive to _know_. And the warrior suddenly knew, too, that knowledge was strength and survival, and that ignorance was a sin. He had to _know._

Breaking out of the StarClan façade, Ashpaw suddenly grinned up at the panting warrior. "I never could wait to learn," he meowed, before padding away.

Only two cats left. Dustpelt had an idea of who they might be. He wasn't sure he could keep on his paws much longer; they were aching and sore from supporting him and digging into the ground. His head swam in dizziness…how long had he been standing here? He couldn't guess. Minutes? Hours? Days? Moons? Time seemed to have frozen, leaving him confused.

His train of thought was broken by the next cat, who stepped lightly towards him over the soft grass. Despite expecting her, Dustpelt's breath caught in his throat. She looked more beautiful than ever, so graceful and fleet. Her green eyes shone at Dustpelt, their expression saying more than words ever could.

Fernpaw halted before him. He looked down at her, unable to speak. Whiskers trembling, the StarClan cat meowed, "With this life I give you gentleness and love." Like her brother, she had to reach to touch noses with him. He caught a brief scent of her breath as they touched, sweet and minty, sweeter than roses. "Use it well to care for your friends and loved ones, young and old, and use it to show mercy to your enemies, no matter how bitter or deadly."

This life was different from the rest. It was a glow of fierce pure love, stronger than like, stronger than lust, stronger than even loyalty. As strong as the love Dustpelt had for Fernpaw, and the love that she had for him in return. It started from the nosetip, where Fernpaw had so briefly touched, and spread through his head and body and down his legs to the tips of his paws and the tip of his tail. Dustpelt closed his eyes in pure bliss, gratefully drinking in the warmth and comfort of the love. As he inhaled, Fernpaw's scent filled his mind.

It left him feeling refreshed and contented. A lick on his cheek woke him up. Fernpaw gazed up at him, then blinked once – twice – her eyes filled with sorrow and loss and the same love he had just received, and padded away.

Squaring his shoulders, Dustpelt felt ready for his last life.


	8. Six: Hope and Despair

Hey guys, I'm really sorry for the late update. I know "sorry is not an excuse" but I got stuck wondering what to write, and after that I was too busy. Anyway, enjoy – if you're not too busy being mad at me for not updating…

Chapter 6 

Dustpelt knew who the last cat would be. He was sure.

And he was right. Firestar rose to his paws and padded towards the warrior, emerald eyes gleaming. Dustpelt waited, raising his head expectantly.

Firestar stopped, seeming to tower over Dustpelt. The warrior could feel majesty and light like fire emanating from the other cat. The ginger tom spoke.

"Welcome, Dustpelt, my warrior and my Clanmate. With this life, I give you respect."

Dustpelt blinked. He had expected something more glorious, like nobility or fairness or…something. Not respect. _I mean, respect…it's just a normal, everyday thing, isn't it?_

Firestar noticed his reaction. A flicker of amusement ran through the former leader's whiskers. "Yes, respect, Dustpelt. Respect – one of the most important, but overlooked qualities. Without it, we could not survive."

Dustpelt nodded, still a little uncertain.

The ginger cat continued, his voice growing in strength. "Use it well to respect your friends and Clanmates for who they are, and your enemies as who they are too. Let in show in your actions, your words, your thoughts. Respect." He bent to touch noses with Dustpelt.

Dustpelt was stunned by the force of the life. It swept through him, and for a moment he lost himself in the tide. In his mind, he ran with the cats of StarClan beside him, guiding him as he led, showing him how to show respect. And he knew, immediately, the importance of that gift, of its worth in keeping peace, more than fairness or ferocity or anything else. Worth in making friends, in fighting enemies…in life itself. Respect.

He opened his eyes, not realising he had closed them. Firestar was gazing down at him, his eyes filled with satisfaction and pride. He knew the warrior had understood and believed.

The former leader spoke again. "And here there is a change in the ceremony. You are a leader, but you will not be given a leader name."

Dustpelt gaped up at him, forgetting himself in his shock. "What?"

Firestar sighed. "If you were called Duststar, you would be leader of four Clans. Four, not one. And that was never how the forest was meant to be. So you shall be leader, but not of four Clans. You will gain a leader name when you drive BloodClan out, and perhaps, become leader of ThunderClan."

"Now, the Clans must stay together to survive, but there will come a day when they must separate again. So this is in preparation for that day."  
Dustpelt nodded, a little subdued. He was half-disappointed and half-secretly glad he didn't have to bear the full responsibilities of a leader.

Raising his head, Firestar yowled, "The ceremony is done!"

The StarClan cats called. Their voices were like melodies in the night, strange and fey and wild yet beautiful. "Dustpelt! Dustpelt! Dustpelt!" they called.

Looking around, Dustpelt felt a glow of pride warm his heart. At the same time, he was also aware of the responsibilities that had settled on his shoulders like a heavy burden. Leader name or not, he was still a leader, and his task was to care for the survivors and guide them. No easy task.

As one, the StarClan cats rose to their paws and glided towards him, ghostly shimmering figures with starshine in their eyes. He watched, awed and unable to move. They swept forward over the moonlit grass, silvery paws making no impression. They were closer and closer…Dustpelt resisted the urge to back away.

And suddenly, just as they were so close he could have reached out and touch them, they leapt into the air, spiralling upwards to form a starry band that swept across the sky. More and more of them, and seemingly endless stream, leaping up just before him, their hot breath that carried a hint of wildfire and freezing ice and all mixed together, mingling with his own. The night sky filled with stars, and the clearing with the waterfall emptied.

Till only Firestar was left.

The leader looked at Dustpelt. Said nothing, simply looked. Dustpelt returned his gaze with anxiety. "What now? What do I do?"

Firestar sat down beside him. "You go back. Lead the cats to safety, to reclaim the forest one day. Remember the prophecy."

"But – I don't know where to go! The mountains, where the rushing water flows? What mountains? Where?"

"StarClan will guide your paws…"

Dustpelt's fears were not appeased, though. "Still – I don't know how to be a leader! I don't know what to do – how to do anything! I'm…I'm…"

But he fell silent under Firestar's intelligent, silent gaze. Somehow, he realised the ginger tom already knew all his fears inside out, everything he was going to say, to ask. And he fell silent.

And the leader spoke. "Do you not have faith, Dustpelt? Do you trust StarClan? Do you trust me?"

The dusky brown tom did not hesitate before answering, his voice quiet. "I trust you, Firestar. I trust StarClan."

Firestar nodded. Surprisingly, he leant forward to give Dustpelt a lick on the ear. Then he drew back, locking gazes with the warrior, the wisdom and kindness in his eyes so great that Dustpelt was unable to break the gaze, to look away.

"We have given you hope. Now you must return, and give your cats a future."

Dustpelt nodded, unable to speak.

"Go now, and hurry. StarClan's blessing is with you." There was a note of almost – urgency in his voice that the warrior's ears barely caught.

The words echoed clear in the still night air, and the flame-pelted cat seemed to fade away, his form flickering like shadows cast by firelight…

The light of the Moonstone was glimmering and beginning to fade when Dustpelt woke. He scrambled to his paws, heart pounding, from the recent experience…and something…something else.

Something was not right.

Something was wrong.

A sense of icy dread creeping into his heart, the warrior began to make the journey back to Mothermouth. His footsteps quickened…and quickened…faster and faster, till he was running, the wind whipping at his fur as his paws pounded the stony ground. It made him shiver, but the coldness within his belly was colder than the coldest wind.

He gasped when a patch of star-speckled sky suddenly appeared in the darkness before him. Not at the opening, but at the sounds that reached his ears.

The sounds of battle!

Frantic yowls, terrified and furious screeches, howls of pain and battle-lust, the grate of claws on fangs and fangs on claws. With a spurt of energy, Dustpelt sprinted the last few tail-lengths and burst out into the night air. The yowls were gradually dying down, for some reason.

And then he saw why. His cats – the Clan-survivors – had bunched into a tight group, their backs to Mothermouth. All around them, to their sides and front, BloodClanners prowled, a constantly shifting circle of dark shapes that trapped the cats in the centre. A circle of evilly glinting eyes, the flash of moonlight reflected on dog's fang-tipped claws – a speciality of BloodClan.

The Clan-cats were hopelessly outnumbered and surrounded, and they knew it. Still, there was an air of defiance in the way they crouched, huddled together but staring at the BloodClan cats with their heads held high. All seemed lost, but Clan-cats would never give in. Never!

The word almost seemed to echo in the air, so strong was the defiance radiating from the small, ragged band of survivors. Still, they shrank together just a little when the soft hisses and spits faded, and the ranks of BloodClan cats fell suddenly, ominously silent.

Then the BloodClanners parted, slinking apart, leaving a long corridor in the middle, lined by dozens of scruffy cats. And a small black cat came prowling through.

Dustpelt was frozen in place as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. Instantly, he knew that the black cat was Scourge.

Scourge. The name tolled a death knell in his mind. The dreaded leader of BloodClan. The cat who had slain two leaders with a single blow each.

The cats around Scourge towered over the skinny black tom, but they all shrank away as he passed, their fear scent strengthening. Yet he spared a glance for none of them, his narrowed eyes fixed on the cats trapped in the centre of the ring. Eyes blue as ice on a frozen stream, and just as cold.

When he reached the end of the corridor, he stopped. Unsheathing his long, dog's fang-reinforced claws, the leader of BloodClan dug them into the ground.

And he spoke, in a harsh, grating voice that was nerve-racking and icy.

"Well. What do we have here?"


	9. Seven: Blood

**Okay, I know the battle part's a bit unrealistic…they couldn't possibly have escaped…well, I realised I put them into an impossible situation, so I um…had to do a bit of tweaking to get them out of it. Sorry…just be glad I updated. Even though this is definitely not a good chapter. And I can't be bothered to reply reviews by clicking on the button, so I've decided to put replies at the end of the chapter. If you reviewed the last chapter, go look for yours!**

Chapter Seven

Tension hung in the air, so strong that Dustpelt could almost feel it pressing down on him. Unsure what to do next, he swung his head desperately from side to side, green eyes searching for an escape, a gap between the BloodClan cats.

There was none.

The dusky tabby began to creep forward, intent on rejoining his Clanmates. Startled, he raised his head when a defiant cry rose from the ragged group, a cry which echoed off the boulders strewn around the slope.

"We are the Clan-cats of the forest, and we will never surrender to a bunch of flea-bitten rogues!" Dustpelt recognized Webfoot's voice, and felt a glow of pride. It was quickly swallowed up by sadness, that such a plucky young cat would likely be killed soon.

They wouldn't surrender, though.

He quickened his cautious pawsteps, reaching the Clan-cats. Webfoot was the first to spot him. "Dustpelt! We –"

Hastily, Dustpelt shushed him. "Listen. When they attack, don't fight. Flee. It's the only chance of survival." He didn't add that even so, the chance was very slim. "I'll take Sorrelkit. Webfoot, take Rainkit. Mosspelt, take Sootkit. If we get separated, we'll meet…um…over that rise, the one above the Moonstone. StarClan be with you all."

Scourge sneered in response to Webfoot's cry, unaware of the whispering going on among the Clan-cats. "Foolish bravery, fit for a forest fool like you, and the rest of your friends." Baring sharp fangs in a twisted grin, he hissed, "You may have escaped me twice, but you will not escape me this time."

Throwing his head back, the small black tom yowled out the dreaded words. "Kill them!"

The tide of cats surged forward, just like a tide of blood. They swept forward, forward, to engulf the Clan cats in their midst. Snatching up Sorrelkit – the small tortoiseshell was so terrified she was trembling silently – he leapt forward, to meet them.

Later, he only remembered flashes of that terrible few minutes, which seemed like hours, days, moons…

…a huge BloodClan tabby leaping towards him, paw upraised…he barely dodged out of the way, crying out in pain as claws raked down his side…

…another cat, a she-cat, attacking but not going for him…going for Sorrelkit…desperately, he swerved, and she missed…he wondered how a she-cat could ever bear to kill a kit, but there was no time to wonder and a swipe took half his ear before he slid away…

…a lightning-fast blow from a grey tom sinking into his shoulder, a jolt of pain…he fled, slipping in his own blood…

…thinking it was impossible, he would never get out, there were so many cats, all of them bent on killing him and the others…wondering where the others were, forgetting there was no time to wonder….another blow making blood drip into his eyes…

…coming face to face with Scourge himself…the small tom fought like a fox, no, like a badger…he barely dodged those deadly blows, hazy as his mind was with blood, pain and fear…and then slipping between the paws of another cat and escaping back into the snarling, writhing mess…

…and at last! Leaping out of the horde, ragged and bleeding and half-blinded with his own blood, Sorrelkit with her eyes tight shut and whimpering, miraculously still dangling from his jaws, a pitiful bundle of fur. Dazed, Dustpelt vaguely recalled his own words to the other cats, to meet behind the rise, and set off. His paws ached, wounds throbbed and stung, but he kept going, driven by determination alone. No strength left. Just determination.

In the roiling sea of flashing fangs and claws, no one saw a small, broken tabby creep unsteadily over the rise, silhouetted for a moment in silver moonlight, before disappearing.

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Dustpelt sat in the shadow of a boulder, staring at the ground between his paws. It felt slightly damp; he wondered hazily why. It didn't really matter, anyway. He was tired, so very tired, drained both physically and emotionally by the battle. He didn't even notice Sorrelkit crouched shivering beside him, her downy kit's fur stained with blood.

The sounds of pawsteps reached his ear, but his dazed mind could not respond.

Finally, the brown tabby raised his head, green eyes haunted.

"It's all my fault," he whispered to the cat before him, who happened to be Webfoot, equally bloody and ragged as him. A small kit tumbled out from behind the warrior and ran to crouch beside Sorrelkit.

Webfoot stared. "Your fault? For what?"

"My fault. I led you all into this. How many of us have died? How many?" A note of despair crept into his voice. "Are we the only ones left?"

The other cat did not answer, dropping his gaze. Then he gasped.

"Dustpelt! You're _bleeding_!'

"I am?" the brown tabby muttered. "I…didn't know…" Indeed, the ground was stained with his blood. No wonder it was damp. And his fur was stained, especially his shoulder…no wonder he felt light-headed…loss of blood could cause dizziness…or so he had heard…a long time ago…from…a medicine cat…what was her…name again…Cinderpelt, was…it…he knew he was drifting and he knew he shouldn't let himself…but the darkness beckoned so invitingly…so dark, so deep…so soft…

Dustpelt's head dropped, and he slumped to the ground, eyes glazing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

When Dustpelt woke, he was lying on soft grass beneath a tree. Even raising his head was an effort, but he did it. Looking around the clearing, he realised it was still night. What had happened? He couldn't remember any further than the moment when he had escaped the battle…

He noted, too, that someone had covered his numerous wounds with cobwebs, stopping the bleeding. Still, he felt weak as a newborn kit. He was sure he wouldn't be able to stand

He instinctively flattened his ears when a voice sounded behind him, but the surprise was quickly replaced by a rush of relief.

"Dustpelt, you're awake!"

Turning his head, the tabby smiled at the cat who had greeted him. It was the RiverClan apprentice named Featherpaw, daughter of Graystripe and Silverstream. She carried a wad of cobwebs wrapped around one paw. "Were you the one who treated my wounds?"

Featherpaw nodded, shuffling her paws shyly. "Yes. Mudfur taught me a bit, so I could help him in the…the…battle with BloodClan."

Her brother Stormpaw came up beside her, gazing admiringly at Dustpelt. "Oh! What did you see at the Moonstone, Dustpelt? What did StarClan say?"

Those words reminded Dustpelt of his nine lives. "I…have to tell all of you together. Where are the rest?"

Stormpaw indicated a direction with a flick of his dark grey tail. "Over there, resting. We carried you away from the rise, as far as we could. I think…you were unconscious. The BloodClan cats could easily have found us, so we had to go. It was mostly rocky so we didn't leave any scent, hopefully. The forest we're in is just below the rise."

Dustpelt nodded. "Good. Will you take me to them? There are important things I have to tell you."

Featherpaw darted forward, distress clear in her blue eyes. "Wait! You can't get up yet! I'm not a trained medicine cat, but I know that much!" She began pressing more cobwebs on Dustpelt's wounds.

Stormpaw hesitated, then meowed, "Is it all right if I bring them here?"

The tom thought for a moment, then nodded again.

The dark grey apprentice bounded off. A few moments later, he returned with a group of cats, many of them limping and striped with unhealed wounds.

Dustpelt ran his eyes over the ragged-looking felines. Ragged-looking, but they were what mattered. Webfoot, Mosspelt, Boulder…and the kits. "Where is Ashfoot?" he asked. He hadn't really spoken to the WindClan queen, but he remembered her – a dark grey she-cat.

It was Webfoot who answered, his voice soft and sad. "She…she didn't emerge from the battle."

Dustpelt closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. _Ashfoot is dead. Dead, because of me._ Still, he had to go on. Especially now that StarClan had named him leader.

Opening his eyes, he looked around at the rest of the cats. "Well. I suppose you're all wondering what happened to me at the Moonstone."

**wolfhorse **Yeah, they were. ;D I couldn't think of anything to write, so I put a big battle in front of them.

**Rosetail's loyalty** Yep, I think it wasn't. But well, I'm glad you're glad about me updating. XD And I hope this new chapter satisfies you. :)

**Aquadream** Really, is my story that sad? XD never mind…at least I can make people cry with my writing!

**almondmuffin** Thanks! But I don't live in America, so for me it isn't summer, and my school holidays are ending. I will try to update though!

**Streamheart** Yay I've updated! Thanks for the compliment, keep on reading:)


	10. Eight: Relief

**Ahem. Sorry guys, I typed this long ago but due to a problem with (or was it my computer?) couldn't upload it. So…here it is, al last. Enjoy!**

**Oh…and…I don't live in America, so my school holidays just ended yesterday. I might become a bit inactive. Sorry.**

"Well…" Dustpelt took a deep breath, looking at the cats around him. "I…StarClan chose me…to be…your leader."

There was silence for a moment.

Then Webfoot spoke up. "Does that mean you're called Duststar now?" His green eyes shone.

The brown tabby shook his head. "No. I'm still Dustpelt. You see…I wouldn't be right for me to take charge of all the Clans. So I have nine lives, but no leader name." _And I'm glad about that_, he added silently.

"And…well, they gave me a prophecy too," he continued hesitantly. His doubts were returning._ I've never been even a deputy before! How am I supposed to treat these cats? _My_ cats?_

Yet as he spoke the prophecy, given by StarClan, strength seemed to flow into him from the powerful words.

""_Blood runs red over the forest and the Clans."_

"_The ragged ones must flee or die,"_

"_To the mountains, where the rushing water flows,"_

"_To mingle blood and not to spill it."_

"_Till the dawn comes when they, with the rushing water, can purge the blood from their home."_

He nodded. "There. That's it."

There was a second silence, as he looked expectantly around at the cats.

Webfoot raised another question, his ears pricked in puzzlement.

"But what does it mean?"

Ears twitching in amusement, Dustpelt meowed, "Mouse-brain! It's a prophecy, for StarClan's sake. We're supposed to figure out what it means."

"Oh." That was Webfoot, his eyes gleaming sheepishly.

Dustpelt continued, his gaze travelling around the group and resting for a moment on each cat. "Well, the first part's quite clear, I suppose. _Blood runs red over the forest and the Clans._ BloodClan has defeated us." A note of sorrow crept into his voice as images of the many dead flashed into his mind. _Fernpaw…_

He pushed the thought away, and continued.

"_The ragged ones left must flee or die._"

"We're the ragged ones, and we're fleeing," Mosspelt meowed.

Dustpelt nodded approvingly. "Right. How about the next part? _To the mountains, where the rushing water flows_. I'm lost there…"

The one who spoke up was Featherpaw, looking rather shy. "I think we're supposed to flee to some mountains. As for rushing water…well, I don't know. But I don't know any mountains either."

Dustpelt considered. "Then it must be far," he said softly. "Far, far away."

"Yes," Webfoot meowed, gravely. "And the next part of the prophecy?"

"_To mingle blood and not to spill it_," Dustpelt recited.

"Mingle blood…mingle blood…I've got it!" Boulder, the silver tom who had been quiet all the while, suddenly meowed. "Maybe we're supposed to mate with some other cats? That would certainly be mingling blood, and probably stop any spilling of blood."

Dustpelt looked at him in admiration. "You're smart. That means that we have to find somewhere there are other cats…"

"And the last part?"_Till the dawn comes when they, with the rushing water, can purge the blood from their home_. I get the part about driving out BloodClan, but not the rushing water again."

Stormpaw looked up, his amber eyes serious. "Perhaps…the rushing water could refer to cats. That way, they'd live in the mountains we have to go to, and we could mingle blood with them, and maybe help us get rid of BloodClan."

Featherpaw gave her brother a lick on the ear, her sky-blue eyes shining.

"That's it!" Dustpelt meowed excitedly. "We should set off at once! I can't wait to be able to get rid of BloodClan!"

"Neither can I!" declared Sorrelkit, her amber eyes shining. The tortoiseshell kit leapt out from behind a tree, where she had been listening secretly.

The other cats – Mosspelt, Webfoot, Boulder, Stormpaw and Featherpaw, and Sorrelkit's siblings, who had followed her out, echoed the kit with amusement.

----------------------------------------------------

Dustpelt crouched at the edge of the Twoleg dump. He grimaced with disgust at the smell. "What a stink!" the tabby whispered to Webfoot, who was beside him.

The WindClan tom nodded in agreement, his ears fixed on the Thunderpath ahead. "Where are we?" he meowed softly.

"A Twolegplace. Not the one…back there," was the quiet reply. Somehow, he knew this was the way to go. StarClan's way of guiding him?

Turning his head, he looked back at the cats. They were waiting, their gazes fixed expectantly on him. Silently, Dustpelt sighed. So many expectations…could he fulfil them?

Taking a deep breath, he meowed loud enough for all of them to hear. "We're going to cross this Thunderpath. I think we need to go straight through this Twolegplace, and out on the other side. Follow me."

He waited till a gap in the huge monsters that roared by appeared, then darted across as fast as his legs would carry him, belly flat against the black ground, ears back against his skull, simply a brown streak. If he had been a second slower, he would have been fresh-kill for the crows. As it was, a huge monster with terrible staring bright eyes caused a wind that made him fur stand on end as it passed, its roar drowning out every other sound.

He tumbled onto the grassy verge at the other side, panting. Gradually, his heartbeat slowed. _That was close!_

Dustpelt stood up and looked at the cats on the other side. They were watching the Thunderpath with wide, frightened eyes. His heart sank. How were they going to get across? He had been lucky…

The next moment, Webfoot darted out onto the wide black strip, Sorrelkit dangling from his jaws. He practically shot across the Thunderpath, arriving beside Dustpelt with his eyes wide, and setting the small tortoiseshell kit, her eyes tightly shut, tenderly down on the grass. "Whew," was all he said.

The other cats were not as brave. Dustpelt watched in alarm as Mosspelt hesitantly placed a paw on the Thunderpath, then pulled it back quickly as a monster rushed past. She backed away, shaking her head and bristling.

"Mosspelt!" he called out desperately, his voice faint above the noise of the monsters. "It's okay! Take Rainkit and come across!"

Her head shot up and she stared at him anxiously. Then, seeming to gather courage, the RiverClan queen picked up the grey kit firmly in her jaws and ran across.

Dustpelt gasped. A monster was coming straight for her, and she wasn't aware of it. Eyes filled with panic, she was running blindly, oblivious to the monsters that swerved and blared, trying to avoid her. "Mosspelt!" he yelled, terrified for the she-cat.

At the last moment, the Twoleg monster swerved away, barely avoiding crashing into another of its kind. The Twoleg in its belly stuck his head out of the monster and shouted something angrily, shaking a clenched fist.

Mosspelt skidded to a stop and slumped onto her side, quivering. "I never, never, _never_ want to do that again!" she hissed softly. Rainkit scrambled out from under her, his downy grey fur bristling. The kit buried his face in his sister Sorrelkit's side, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

Dustpelt gave a reassuring lick on her ear, refraining from meowing that they might have too sooner or later. He looked back at the other side. Three cats left. Stormpaw, Featherpaw and Boulder.

The three cats seemed to be talking, Boulder trying to convince the apprentices that it was safe to cross. Dustpelt felt his regard for the lean silver tom grow. Of course, a former BloodClan cat would know all about Thunderpaths.

Finally, Stormpaw and Featherpaw nodded and started towards the edge of the Thunderpath. Stormpaw looked at his sister and mewed something inaudible. Then the tom stepped out and streaked across the road, a dark grey blur nearly invisible against the black surface of the Thunderpath.

He arrived safely, and immediately turned to look at his sister. The love between the siblings was obvious as he gave an encouraging nod to Featherpaw.

She smiled back, nervously, and then darted across. For a moment, Dustpelt's heart stopped. She was hidden from view by a monster for a few terrible seconds that seemed to stretch for years. Then the small silver tabby reappeared again, and crossed the last few tail-lengths quickly and safely. She pressed against Stormpaw's side, eyes wide.

Boulder was the only one left. He carried Sootkit in his strong jaws. Unlike the rest of them, he seemed completely unafraid. Dustpelt supposed that living in Twolegplace had hardened him to this sort of thing.

As soon as the tom's paws hit the road, he was off, running faster than Dustpelt had believed was possible. Boulder wove surely and skilfully between the monsters, darting between gaps and slipping between monsters. He arrived with the rest, barely panting, and set Sootkit down beside Sorrelkit and Rainkit. Nearly every cat was gazing at him with admiration

Dustpelt finally let out his breath, not realising he had been holding it. "That's one obstacle down," he meowed. Come on.

He added silently, bleakly, _StarClan knows how many more to go._

**Longtail's Loyalty **It was Ashfoot, not Ashfur. But to make it more realistic, I had to make a cat die. :(

**Freedomstar999** In chapter two. Go read again. :)

**Purefeline** Oh, really? Thanks! Well, I don't think this chapter was really sad. XD

**fallingautumnleaves** –blushes- thanks a lot. I just like writing.

**Grizzlepelt** I think it's all right if he doesn't tell them the details, just that he got nine lives. If not, how were they supposed to know:) Sorry for not updating for a long time.

**Hickoryflower** I will write more, I promise:)

**Frostpaw** Yeah, Sorrelkit's cute isn't she? Well, I've updated!

**Featherstream** Thanks! Sorry…everyone seems to be saying it's sad because of the dead cats. XD


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